


a cancer’s lucky item

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Basketball, Crushes, Friendship, Horoscopes, Lucky Items (Kuroko no Basuke), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24178408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Midorima Shintarō doesn’t need friends; he’s already emphasized the moment they met each other. Only a fool, which to him, many of their peers are, would take the cold and stoic impression into offense.Kazunari Takao isn’t one to yield to such, however.
Relationships: Midorima Shintarou/Takao Kazunari
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	a cancer’s lucky item

**Author's Note:**

> absolutely self-indulgent.

“ _Today on Scorpio’s lucky item: A subway map of Japan!_ ”

Kazunari Takao scrunches his face in confusion. _A subway map?_

He halts facing the pedestrian lane, still looking down at his phone’s screen. A lucky cat waves cheerily at him — this makes his skin crawl albeit slightly. The fortune telling app that Midorima (begrudgingly) suggested is _weird_. 

Kazunari muses on what convinced Midorima Shintarō to have faith in these oddities — and strangely, the precision and range of his shots. Because when you pass the ball to Midorima, he will always, _always_ make the shot, whether it’s from the half-court or the other end of the court. 

_No_ , Kazunari thinks. _He doesn’t need the lucky item to have hell of a shot._ _He is from the Generation of Miracles, after all_. 

Also, of all things, why a _subway map_ for a lucky item?

Considering that Midorima brought with him various objects that is to bring luck for the entire day — from the national phonebook to a china teapot that Kazunari happened to break — _anything_ can be the Zodiac’s lucky item of the day. 

Now that Kazunari thinks about it, a day has never passed without the acknowledgement of the lucky item. 

_Where the hell does he get those stuff?_

“You should be aware of your surroundings and not get in anybody’s way.” Kazunari looks up from the screen and smirks. “It becomes a waste of precious time.”

For a prodigy born with a silver spoon in his mouth and respected (more of, _feared_ ) by anyone who knew the Generation of Miracles, Midorima’s social skill is to be… _expected_. He speaks with what others perceive as arrogant and mocking; he never meets the gaze of those he finds “inferior.” His mere spresence is more than enough to remind you of his godlike prowess. 

Well, that’s how the “common” people perceive it. 

In Kazunari’s friend’s — or partner? Teammate? He didn’t really know. — defense, Midorima has what people call “bragging rights.” Not any player of experience can effortlessly flick his wrist and have the ball shot in the range of the entire court, nor score a total of 153 points in _one_ game — and the number isn’t a limitation. 

Others may judge Midorima as “arrogant”, but Kazunari _understands_ that the former only deals with _facts_. Midorima’s words are sharp but convey no trace of flattery or deceit. (More of the latter because it’s rare for compliments to come from him.) 

That’s Midorima Shintarō from Kazunari’s viewpoint. They’re not _friends_ , per se, but he’s persistent enough to be considered as Shintarō’s _acquaintance_. 

“Good morning to you, too, Shin- _chan_ ,” Kazunari replies. He focuses his gaze on Shintarō’s hands: They hold no lucky item in sight. 

Rather, they’re balled into fists. 

“Don’t bother asking,” Midorima snaps and pushes his glasses back. 

As always, he never fails to tape his fingers. A precaution that he takes because a mere scratch on them will affect his shooting form — or so Midorima presumes. Not to mention the rolls of adhesive tape Kazunari purchases from the drug store since they became teammates.

Partners? 

_Friends?_

If Kazunari were oriented that being Midorima’s _friend_ involves him laboring as an a personal pedicab and a supplier of adhesive tapes, then Kazunari really would’ve thought about it twice. Kise Ryōta, another of the Generation of Miracles, would’ve made a better candidate despite his fangirls and pretty face.  At least they can get _okonomiyaki_ and talk about anything under the sun, without one implying the other to piss off. (Midorima disdains Kazunari’s talkative nature but refuses to comment on it.)

And yet, Kazunari he sticks with Midorima. He doesn’t really know _why_ or _how_ he manages to get through the other’s withdrawn personality. But to him, it must mean something if Midorima lets Kazunari refer to him “Shin- _chan_ ” — not that there have been any objections raised.

It just _happened_. 

The two cross the street and walk in silence for a few blocks. Every minute or two, Midorima pushes his glasses and Kazunari catches him cursing under his breath. _He’s like a kid throwing a tantrum_ , he thinks with a small shake of his head. 

It’s been over a year since their first encounter — one hell of a year for the basketball team, too. Turns out that all their games in high school brackets the line of the Generation of Miracles — with their new challenger, Kagami Taiga. For many, it’d be a stroke of misfortune to have the prodigies be on the same court as each other; to Kazunari, it’s _thrilling_.  And he knows that Midorima shares the sentiment. Kazunari can use his ten fingers to recall the times when _the_ Midorima Shintarō _smiled_. They were brief but genuine. 

Kazunari thinks that Shintarō _does_ play basketball for _fun_ , but he couldn’t be certain of it — all the same with their “friendship.” A prodigy — no, _monster_ like Midorima doesn’t need friends. 

The basketball keychain is buried in Kazunari’s pocket, anyway. 

“Shin _-chan._ ” Kazunari’s tone is casual and airy. “What’s your lucky item of the day?”

His companion stiffens up but continues walking. “I don’t see why you should take interest in it,” he replies curtly and pushes up his glasses. _Again_. “I don’t need your sympathy, fool.” 

Kazunari snorts, earning a displeased look from Midorima. “Sometimes,” he tells Midorima, “I wonder how you don’t get any white hair with how serious you are.” 

“It’s called _caution_ , idiot.” Midorima glances at Kazunari. “The more serious I am, the less I’m prone to potential stressors. It’s a human instinct.”

_Ah, nothing less to be expected from him_. “Right, right. But you still didn’t answer my question, though.” 

Kazunari continues to walk ahead, hands stuffed into his pockets. His fingertips graze the the keychain’s smooth surface. Meanwhile, Midorima stops dead on his tracks and narrows his eyes at Kazunari, who now halts a few meters away from him and has quizzical look on his face. 

The last thing that crosses Kazunari’s mind is the horoscope. He’s never asked Midorima of a Scorpio-Cancer’s compatibility, or the prediction of Midorima’s day, and above all, his lucky item. It’s uncharacteristic of Kazunari to show a hint of interest at something that comes off as _natural_ to Midorima because he’s grown accustomed to it.  _You’re not the type of person to miss, are you, Shin-_ chan? 

Kazunari idly stands and waits for him to state the obvious. 

“Why the sudden interest in my lucky item, Kazunari?” 

“You never forgot to bring your lucky item. Not even once,” he begins. “So, I was curious what the item it was to make you _not_ have it.”  Kazunari chuckles to himself. “Hell, if your lucky item was a rooster, I wouldn’t be surprised if you brought it to school,” he adds. 

Midorima ignores this and comments: “Your lucky item to day is a—“ 

“—subway map. I know.” 

He doesn’t seem unfazed by Kazunari’s reply, like he has been expecting it all along. “Then you must know what mine is, idiot.” 

The glare of the sun’s rays makes it difficult for Kazunari to meet Midorima in the eye — after all, it’s one of the few doorways to Midorima’s feelings. Though Midorima’s expression remains to be apathetic, there’s a small curl by the corner of his lips, as though he’s _amused_ by Kazunari’s antics. 

Likewise, Kazunari suppresses the smile slowly tugging on his lips and brushes aside the sudden leap of his heart. In his pocket, a hand encloses on the basketball keychain that he’s had since the first year of high school. How it came into possession doesn’t matter because he’ll be giving it away soon — an offering of sorts. 

And he didn’t stay up until midnight — to know the Cancer’s lucky item — for nothing. 

He swiftly takes out the basketball keychain from the pocket and tosses it to Midorima. The latter’s quick to raise a hand to catch it. 

“It’s strange that you don’t have a “trinket” from a friend,” Kazunari remarks. “You’ve never gotten anything all your life?”

“I’m not one for sentiments nor friendship,” the other responds bluntly. 

_Of course you aren’t_ , but Kazunari doesn’t say this out loud. It surely would ruin the moment if he mocked Midorima to his advantage. So, an “I know” is all he says and they go on their way to basketball practice. 

Midorima Shintarō doesn’t need friends; he’s already emphasized the moment they met each other. Only a fool, which to him, many of their peers are, would take the cold and stoic impression into offense. 

Kazunari Takao isn’t one to yield to such, however. Instead, through that insignificant keychain, he offers his friendship to Midorima. 

It comes off as both a relief and surprise that Midorima accepts it — no questions asked.


End file.
